


a difference

by lorspolairepeluche



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: The Landsmeet, F/M, at least mikki knows what to say to make ali feel better, these poor kids honestly, well mostly the night before the landsmeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: sometimes making a difference is about big gestures and valor and grandiosity. but sometimes it's about growing to care and trust and love someone.





	

Alistair expects Michal’s breathing to lengthen and deepen as it always does as he concentrates on keeping his own breathing steady, her head resting on his chest as it rises and falls. Her hair is, as usual, a swath of red cascading across his skin, just familiar enough to be comforting, but new enough that a warm rush goes through him whenever he looks at it and thinks _this is real._ Her hand is, as usual, laced with his, just above his shoulder, and the other is tucked under his other shoulder.

But Michal’s breathing stays shorter than sleeping, shorter even than usual. And Alistair waits. Maybe she’s just taking a longer time to fall asleep than usual. He can’t blame her. _Eamon said the Landsmeet will be tomorrow. After tomorrow, we’ll know if we can defeat the Blight. …Oh, why can’t it just be over already?_

His thoughts are interrupted when Michal pushes herself up to sit on the bed, the blankets pooling around her as she flips her hair back to its usual cascade over her right shoulder. “Alistair?”

He jolts. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I was going to ask you that.” Michal smiles, and his heart does the same leap it did the first time she smiled at him like that. “You’re tense. More so than usual. I suppose I can’t blame you…” She looks away. “The Landsmeet is tomorrow… Maker, I don’t feel like I’m ready.”

Alistair sits up too, pulls her onto his lap like at Fort Drakon a scant two days previously. “Neither am I,” he admits. “I just want it to have already happened.”

Michal stays quiet, fingering the amulet around his neck, the one he never takes off. “It’s not even going to be over after tomorrow,” she murmurs finally. “The Blight won’t end with the Landsmeet.”

Alistair would tug her even closer if he could. This is one of those moments the stories talked about: the knight holding his lady as she worried what would happen. The knight always assured his lady it would be fine, that he would triumph, but the words catch in Alistair’s throat. Michal is no helpless damsel who needs a knight to protect her. She’s their leader. She’s the one who turns to them and says firmly that they’ll defeat anything that may cross them. And Alistair…Alistair just follows. “Are you all right?”

She looks up at him and smiles the smallest bit. “No. I suppose not.”

“Is there anything, well, anything I can do for you?” Alistair ventures.

Michal lets out a breath that is half-laugh, half-sigh. “Just…hold me for a while.”

That Alistair can do. He wraps his arms around Michal and rocks gently back and forth, reassuring himself as much as her. _It’s going to be all right,_ he tells himself firmly. _We’ve made all the preparations we can._

“It’s just—”

“Michal?” Alistair stops rocking, doing his best to seem attentive. “What is it?

She really laughs this time, cupping his cheek and kissing him once. “You are a treasure, Alistair.” He blushes at that and looks away, and she leans against him again, her arms going around his chest. “I knew Loghain,” she says reflectively. “And Anora, and Cailan. In…in another life. Back then…it was us and Fergus, the four of us children playing together while our fathers watched. Loghain laughed then, enjoyed cheering one or the other of us on. If it was me against Cailan or Fergus…he always cheered for me. It’s…it’s been hard reconciling the man I knew with the man we’re facing tomorrow.”

Alistair pulls her close, holds her head against his chest and tucks himself around her. He can’t comfort her with words. The only Loghain he knows is the one who betrayed Duncan at Ostagar.

Michal hugs Alistair’s arm around her and leans into him. For a moment, she allows herself to be comforted. “Alistair?” she whispers after ten seconds’ silence.

“Yes, my love?”

Michal smiles at that, her eyes still closed. “I do love you.”

Alistair kisses her hair. “I love you, too,” he assures her. “What do you need from me now?”

Michal laughs, and Alistair considers it no small triumph. She looks up at him, her mouth open as if to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, all that comes out is, “Nothing. Nothing, sorry. I just…wanted you to know that.” She drops her gaze, leaning against him again, and Alistair has the distinct feeling she was about to tell him something important.

He puts it to the back of his mind and holds her close. Michal hasn’t led him astray yet; aside from loving her, he trusts her.

“Are you really so opposed to becoming king?” Michal’s question is sudden.

“Yes,” Alistair answers quietly. “I…wouldn’t be a good king. I don’t know anything about ruling. Anora would be a better ruler than I would be. _You_ would be a better ruler than I would be.”

“And if you had a queen? Someone ruling beside you?” Michal asked quietly.

“You mean Eamon’s suggestion that I marry Anora,” Alistair says heavily. “I…suppose that would be ideal for Ferelden, wouldn’t it? I have the Theirin bloodline; she has the skill to rule. I mean, if you listen to her, she was effectively ruling anyway, not Cailan.” Something strikes him, and he quiets.

“Alistair?” Michal prompts, touching his cheek with her fingertips.

“You knew Cailan better than I did. Am I…do you think I’m like him? Am I just his replacement?” Alistair blurts.

Michal goes very still for a second before moving to kneel in front of Alistair, one of her legs on either side of his. She takes his face in her hands, turns his head up to look right in her eyes, and speaks very, very seriously. “Alistair, Cailan was a good man, and so are you, but you are so much more. Cailan was…Cailan was naïve. He was the biggest idealist I’ve ever met in my life. But you…you are tried, tested, and _true,_ Alistair. We’ve been at each other’s side for nearly a year now, and I can’t imagine us being anywhere else anymore. You are reliable, you are funny, you are kind… Alistair, you’re bloody brilliant, is what you are.” She pauses and collects herself before going on, “If there is one difference between you and Cailan, it’s that Cailan wanted to see a difference made, and you want to _make_ that difference. You _can_ make that difference. You already have.”

Alistair shakes his head, gazing up at the woman he is dead sure is a gift straight from the Maker. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispers.

Michal wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back, tucking his face into the crook of her shoulder. Her answer to his question is simple: “You made a difference in me.”

—

Alistair can feel the shaking starting, and his only comfort is that he can see Michal’s fist clenching, unclenching, reclenching: she’s just as nervous as he is. She looks at him once—and not at Anora—before holding her chin high and looking around at the gathered lords. And with Loghain Mac Tir’s blood on her armor and on her face and the eyes of the nation upon her, Michal Cousland makes her decision.

“Alistair will be king…and I will rule beside him as his queen.”

Alistair’s stomach drops out of him, and his mouth is moving before his mind can catch up. “Wait, what? You’d do that? For me?”

Michal looks at him with so many emotions in her blue eyes, emotions matching those swirling around in Alistair. “Yes,” she says simply.

“Why?” is the only whispered word he can get out.

Michal smiles and holds out her hand to him.“Because we can make a difference.”


End file.
